Tried to amend my carnivorous habits.
Made it nearly seventy days,
Losin' weight without speed-eatin' sunflower seeds,
Drinkin' lots of carrot juice and soakin' up rays.
But at night I'd have these wonderful dreams
Some kind of sensuous treat.
Not zucchini, fettucini, bulgar wheat,
But a big warm bun and a huge hunk of meat.
-"Cheeseburger in Paradise"(Jimmy Buffett)

Disclaimer: I do not own Axis Powers: Hetalia. I wish I did though. Then Germany and would have solved their Unresolved Sexual Tension, and there would be many more happy fangirls in the world than there are today.

A/N: De-Anon from the Hetalia KinkMeme. The prompt was another nation tries America's burgers, and likes them. America is so happy that he makes out with them right there in the world conference.

Germany just could no longer take it. He couldn't. The incessant chomping had to go, especially while he was presenting his latest innovation for recycling. Besides, the nations had put up with it for far too long, and it was to the point where only Britain could tolerate him, and that was only because Arthur had no room to talk, especially when it came to him being drunk. The gentleman became twice as obnoxious and incoherent as America once you got a few pints in him.

Never mind. That wasn't the point of this train of thought. The point of this thought trail was that Germany just couldn't TAKE IT anymore.

"Alfred!"

"Yeah?" America never stopped eating, although his eyes did flicker in his general direction for half a millisecond. Strange… that always scared Feliciano into submission. (Yet, to be fair, everything scared Feliciano into submission.)

"If you cannot cease engorging yourself upon food for the few hours we are in this conference, then I am going to have to confiscate it and make more than certain that you cannot obtain more until we are finished."

Ludwig hated rule-breakers. He really did. The sign outside clearly said "No food or drink allowed inside conference room." Of course, that never stopped Alfred or Ivan from bringing in their burgers and vodka. In his orderly mind, Germany saw an infraction that should be remedied. He wasn't even going to attempt Russia, due to the understandable fact that he liked living. A lot. America, however…

"Aw, c'mon, Ludwig," the younger nation used his most whiney voice, attempting assurance that he would come out on top in the ensuing argument.

"No. It is against the rules, and I have yet to figure out why any of us have allowed it to get this far."

The rest of the nations at the conference shifted their eyes about the room, pointedly not looking at the two involved. Even Russia looked uncomfortable with the proceedings. No one had ever before tried to call America out on his behaviors.

"Because I'm the hero. Duh! Why can't I eat?" It made perfect sense, of course, that no one would dare to call out the savior of the world on his rebellious actions. Ludwig could see this, couldn't he?

You cannot because there is no food allowed in the conference room. As for being a "hero": That does not excuse you from following the rules.

"Dude, really? It's just a hamburger. Well, cheeseburger, but I do have hamburgers…" America trailed off.

The bigger man's face was getting really red, and his body was tensing.

The other nations in the room had ceased pretending to be disinterested. Matthew was gleefully leaning forward in his chair, a sense of brotherly rivalry completely taking over when it came to his brother's ghastly habits. Arthur was grinning like it was his birthday. Feliciano was hiding from the wrath he knew was about to ensue, and Elizaveta was waiting for the resolution of the sexual tension she perceived existed. Even Gilbert, who was scribbling away in his diary, was watching the exchange without looking away.

(Wait. When did he get there? Why did he insist on sneaking in when he knew they'd just throw him out again away? Germany would deal with that later. Right now, his anger with America was beginning to reach past smoldering to flaming, and that was too much to deal with on top of Prussia sneaking in despite his non-nation status.)

Alfred's burgers had to go. Also, Alfred had just referred to him as "dude." Germany twitched.

"First off, they are not "just a hamburger." They are a disruption to the flow of these meetings." Germany walked slowly around the table away from the presentation screen, "Secondly, they are sloppy, and get everywhere, which you ignore and leave for the rest of us to clean up. Third, they are just…disgusting."

He'd tried to find a better word. He really did. Yet, the thought of having to clean up after America one more time was already making his brain cry in fear and pain. Another thing that Ludwig hated was messes, although his tolerance for messes was quite a bit higher since living with Italy's northern half.

"How do you know? I'll bet you five bucks you've never even tried one." America had taken on that tone that he always got when a staple of his people's culture was insulted.

"I do not need to try one. I watch you eat them on an almost daily basis. Also, you forget, my people invented the basis for them." His accent was thicker now, and grew with his annoyance. Now, he owed Alfred five American dollars, and he still had yet to rid the nation of his food.

He had hated the patties of almost raw beef and onions when they were served in his country, and could not begin to fathom what appeal they could possibly possess now, after the last couple of centuries. If he recalled correctly, they were hard if cooked, and gave one the chance of food poisoning in a sort of game resembling Russian Roulette with terrible odds, if served raw. He blamed America's love for it on England's terrible cooking skills, even if his people had been the ones to invent it and bring it over from Hamburg.

"What? My burgers are nothing like those gross slabs of beef your sailors liked back in the 1800's, dude." Another twitch. "In case you forgot, we perfected it and then it spread around the world. In fact I'll bet you another five bucks that you'll like it just as much as I do if you try it. Oh, and if you like it, I get to keep them. If you don't, I'll never bring one in here again."

It was a gamble, America knew. Germans might be meat and potato type people, and fried might be their style, but this was wholly American, and not even Britain could stomach it most days. Humans could, but that was an entirely different story. Alfred just got a kick out of watching others try the food. It sort of turned him on when he found someone that was willing to try them, who was not American by birth, or had not lived in the country for very long. (Especially if they liked it. He had picked up a few dates that way in foreign countries, and was not ashamed to admit it.)

"…Fine."

"Well, if you're not going to-What?"

"Fine, I will…try your hamburger. If I decide that it is as good as you say, then you may continue to eat them in the conference. If not, then you will give what you have to me, and never bring one into this room again."

The rest of the conference now consisted of nations in various states of shock, as Germany agreed to a deal that would possibly (though not probably) permit America to break the rules. The chances of the older man liking the dish were around a 2 on a scale of 1-10. The 2 was only because it was meat. The chances would have been zero if it had been anything else wholly American, like a hotdog, which even Alfred himself doubted was real meat some days.

However, Ludwig was thinking about none of this. He figured he should at least taste what foods his nation's people had brought over had evolved into. It was only right. Especially because it could prove to be interesting from a research standpoint, and plus if it poisoned him he could force Alfred to only buy German cars for the rest of his life.

"Sweet, dude!" Twitch. "Here!" America handed over one of the wax paper wrapped sandwiches, and watched Ludwig unwrap it, and examine it closely. The surrounding nations did the same, leaning forward in their chairs to get a better look at the scene unfolding before them. Elizaveta wished she had brought her camera. Feliciano had emerged from hiding to make sure his friend did not die consuming such horrible cuisine, and made a note to cook some pasta for Ludwig later. Gilbert had stopped scribbling long enough to be worried for his brother, and to gape like an (awesome) idiot.

Canada however, was glaring at America from his chair. He knew about his brother's little kink, with the burgers and people who liked them. He had yet to find a nation that liked it. The northern nation could only imagine what America would do if Germany actually liked the food, and his runaway imagination thought that it deserved a glare, even if it did not happen. He knew the fact that the older man had agreed to taste it drove his brother wild, and prepared to tackle him should he go too far.

Ludwig opened his mouth and took an experimental nibble out of the sandwich.

"No. No. No! You have to take a big bite! So you can get all the ketchup, mustard and good things on there!" America was practically salivating at the thought of someone else eating his food. He told himself that he should really get that checked out when the meeting ended.

The German narrowed his eyes, and took a bigger bite. He chewed slowly and deliberately, watching the young superpower before him all the while, and then swallowed and laid the sandwich down without a word.

"Well….?"

"It is…good… It is… surprisingly good." His face flushed, "I owe you an apolo-"

He did not get a chance to finish his sentence, because America had flown out of his chair, grabbed his face and kissed him on the lips with surprising force. At first, he had tried to push the younger man off. That was something he would swear to on pain of death. To be kissed, in front of the entire world conference? His brain nearly short circuited at the amount of PDA it was being subjected to.

Yet, at the same time, the image forming in his mind of all the other nations watching the exchange turned him on, and Ludwig could not help but kiss back. Alfred made a small noise that could have either been a spoken word or a moan, and reached down to grab the German's hips and pull him closer, somehow managing to work off his suit jacket in the process.

Suddenly oblivious to the surrounding shock, Ludwig began to kiss back more passionately. He reached up and threaded one hand's fingers through Alfred's hair and tugged his head back to get a better angle, and felt Alfred's glasses slip down his nose. This time, the younger man definitely moaned. The sound caused blood to rush, and his body made contact with the other's to grind against him, causing them both to gasp.

Ludwig's belt was missing, (when had that happened?) and the man beneath him had slid his hands down enough under his slacks to grab his ass tightly. He groaned softly. Leaning over the conference table was beginning to hurt his back.

He wrestled with Alfred to get him on the floor, giving the other man time to pull back just long enough to say, "You are so fucking awesome."

"You had best not let Gilbert hear you say that," Ludwig muttered, feeling himself flush again, having no idea whether or not his brother was still in the room.

"Fuck Gilbert. He doesn't eat my burgers." Alfred tugged Germany's blond head back down and pressed his lips to his own in another kiss that made him sure that he had died and gone to heaven.

At this point, the meeting was forgotten, and younger nations were suddenly being shuffled from the room quietly by Francis, who was attempting to explain what was happening.

Matthew had abandoned his plans to tackle his brother, and was quietly sneaking through the standing bodies, making his way out before the inevitable happened. A loud thump brought his attention back to the couple long enough to see that Germany had pushed America backwards onto the conference table, and that both of their ties were missing and the rest of them in various states of undress.

He left the room, blushing furiously, and prayed he would not receive a visit from another country about the neighboring nation's behavior. Most of the nations soon followed shortly behind him.

All except for Gilbert, who was furiously eating hamburgers (and gagging noisily), attempting to illicit the same response from the American that his brother had. He was failing (miserably) awesomely.

A/N: This is just a quick little one-shot. I promise I'll get back to my regular fics soon. I just randomly decided to take on 2 summer classes, so I've kinda been on hiatus. ^^;